


The world's only consulting Doctor, is now an angel.

by hpotps



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpotps/pseuds/hpotps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never wanted to be so alone while wishing they would stay in his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The world's only consulting Doctor, is now an angel.

**Author's Note:**

> *updated
> 
> Also I was thinking about adding a bar scene with them as another chapter but idk, if you want one just let me know and I'll come up with something.

A whoosh of wings announced Castiel’s arrival to the Winchesters. “It is time.” Was all that was said. Dean and Sam looked at one another with somber faces, neither having the energy to speak. The hunt was long and exhausting because for the first time in a long time, a demon outsmarted them 3 times in a row. Sam walked outside the motel room and into the parking lot, checking on the safety precautions they decided were necessary. Devil’s traps were under the car, and engraved in the hood of the trunk. Silver plating lined the Impala’s car handles, along with an undercoat of iron. A looped recording of an exorcism was playing; they also took the time to bless the blanket of snow covering the car, to repel anything else; this was Cas’s idea, but Sam would be a liar if he didn't admit that the idea to make holy _snow_ wasn't awesome.  


When the motel door closed Dean marched briskly to where his angel was standing. Without warning, Dean cupped Cas’s cheeks in his hands and pulled their faces together. Dean’s brow was creased and his body was tense as he tried to convey all of his emotions into one kiss. Cas let his hands rest lightly on the old raised flesh on Dean’s shoulders. Dean was the first to pull away. They touched their foreheads together and Dean puffed while Cas breathed slowly.  


Sam turned the knob and Dean fell away from Cas. Brow creased and a look of worry set on his face, Sam walked over to the two and stood briefly before nodding. Sam placed his hand on Cas’s shoulder and gripped securely. Dean placed his left hand on Cas’s left shoulder but it slid down to the slim hand. Dean held tightly and with a whoosh the Winchesters and the angel were gone.  


~~~  


Reaching up to straighten his bowtie, the Doctor talked animatedly to himself. “Another mystery solved, another town safe, and another year stays!” Compulsively the Doctor looked around the engine room and saw no one. A small frown on his face, he directed his attention back to the knobs and screws; failing miserably at not thinking about that day in Manhattan. He was about to leave, but something got his attention. He went through one- two- three pockets before he found his psychic paper. ‘The man who was a fraud is gone. Please come immediately. An angel of the Lord.’ The Doctor would have found this very peculiar had he not known exactly what it meant. This was a first. Someone contacting him through his psychic paper and them him actually knowing what it means. Adjusting the time and date on the TARDIS, the Doctor set off.  


~~~  


Rough, calloused hands met the cool black marble with gold writing. He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say, but saying it made it all real; John Watson didn’t think he could handle that. He swallowed a lump in his throat and coughed a bit, ready to start. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the whoosh of familiar wings. The angel, Castiel, stood reflected in the cut black marble, along with Sam and Dean Winchester, who were wearing matching suits. It had been a very long time since he'd seen John Winchester in the military, but John kept in contact with his boys should they ever need anything. Cas nodded his head as a sign of acknowledgement, which both Sam and Dean repeated. It was so weird seeing them all grown up. They weren't his closest friends- a pang of sadness -but they meant somethign to him and he was glad to see their faces. John sighed.  


A second noise, that was unfamiliar to all of Great Britain but John, and no long Sherlock, resounded through the clearing. A man in a black suit jacket and matching black bowtie stood framed in a blue doorway that led to a Police box that was much smaller on the outside. Another nod of acknowledgement was exchanged between the Doctor and John. He could still remember the day the Doctor had shown up and left his box right outside 221B. Sherlock had seen it first and froze. "That box wasn't there yesterday, was it John?" John looked but didn't see anything until he stared for a very long time. The blue box fluttered in to view and John near fainted. When in the bloody hell. That was when the Doctor stepped out of it. That was the day Sherlock couldn't explain away with science no matter how hard he tried.  


When he was sure no more were coming, John directed his attention back to the black marble stone.  


“You told me once…” John began before clearing his throat, “that you weren’t a hero. Um, there were times I didn’t even think you were human, but let me tell you this…” John cleared his throat again before going on, “you were the best man, the most human…” He sighed, and glanced at the reflections of his friends. He had never wanted to be so alone and wishing they would stay in his entire life. “…human being I have ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie and so…” He said in one breath, trying to keep himself under control. “…Yes.” John swallowed, trying to prepare for what he was about to say, knowing it would make reality come crashing down on him. A flurry of memories raced and danced against his eyes: the first time he met Sherlock, Afghanistan or Iraq, the pink dress, the crazy cab driver, Moriarty, the pool, Irene, the hound, Mycroft, the call, the admittion; all racing before his eyes until, like a train, it crashed and John’s cry of “SHERLOCK!!” was ringing in his ears until…  


“I was so alone… and I owe you so much.”

John moved to walk away, but turned around almost immediately.  


"Oh, and one more thing," He swallowed the pit in his throat, "one more miracle; for me Sherlock. Don't be..." He was trying so hard not to cry. "Dead..." He was fighting off tears tooth and nail, he had to be strong. "Would you... just for me... just stop it, just stop this"


End file.
